


Night on the Town

by SpaceCadetGlow



Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Crossdressing, Date Night, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 11:31:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4744712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceCadetGlow/pseuds/SpaceCadetGlow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rolf convinces Nelson to cross-dress so they can go out on a date in public.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night on the Town

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Watchmen kinkmeme, which exists in its current iteration here: http://watchmen-km.dreamwidth.org/287.html. If you enjoy this fic, please leave a comment; feedback makes my day!

~*~*~*~*~

It turns into an argument between them, as everything eventually will. Rolf tries to be reasonable. If Nelson doesn't want to go to the clubs that cater to men like them, then this is the only way they can go out together. As a _couple_ , he says. Wouldn't that be nice, just to be like a normal couple? Nelson nods through fear disguised as sullenness. It's all he's ever wanted. Rolf would be proud to go out with Nelson on his arm, doesn't he feel the same?

Nelson lies, says yes again. He loves Rolf, needs him like the city needs Hooded Justice, like a man needs oxygen. But he's not proud of that.

~*~*~*~*~

The dress he chooses is black, with enough gathers across the torso to hide his musculature and distinct lack of curves, even with a stuffed brassiere underneath. The hem of the dress brushes the floor, obscuring the shoes that are too big for any woman Nelson has ever met. The large fur stole that Rolf purchases strikes Nelson as tacky, but it must have cost a fortune, and his shoulders are too broad to be passable, anyway. Long, dove-grey gloves will cover his hands and arms. The wig almost perfectly matches his own hair color. It's like being wrapped up in pretty paper, a gift where the packaging is better than what's inside. This is, after all, a gift for Rolf more than anything.

Rolf beams when he gets off the phone with the restaurant, a reservation secured. Nelson tries to smile back, and also tries to convince himself that the feeling in the pit of his stomach is one of excitement.

~*~*~*~*~

"Müller, party of two," Rolf says. The maître d' nods and leads them to a table, Rolf allowing Nelson to walk in front of him. He doesn't dare make eye contact with anyone. Everyone is staring at him, he's sure of it. This is a respectable place; what right does he have to come in here, flaunting himself in front of New York's polite company? Better to be sharing handjobs in alleys among the dregs of society, he thinks miserably. 

"Madam," the man prompts him, pulling out a chair. Nelson panics -- he's only once practiced using a higher voice, and it was awful -- then remembers that a gracious smile will do just as well. He sits down and immediately folds his hands in his lap and tucks his chin down. Rolf looks incredibly handsome in his charcoal-colored suit, but Nelson stares at the cloth napkin neatly folded on the table, and waits to be thrown out.

~*~*~*~*~

"Nelly, are you alright?" Rolf reaches across the table, extending an open hand. Tentatively, Nelson lifts his hand from its home in his lap, and allows Rolf to take it. "You have nothing to worry about, love. Next to me, you look positively dainty."

Nelson has to smile at that, in part because Rolf truly is the largest person in the place, and his hand does dwarf Nelson's -- but mostly, it's because Rolf never uses pet names or endearments with him. For the rest of the night he is _sweetheart_ and _darling_ , even when the waiter is out of earshot; and if anyone looks strangely at the hulking bald man and his husky-voiced companion, Nelson doesn't notice or care.


End file.
